On the eighth day of December, my true love gave to me...

[a_mere_child]

One a_mere_child napping on the couch,
one g00d_d0ggie romping through the snow,
one no_vampires_plz practicing fire spells,
one doyousmellfudge with a giant mug of tea,
and a withhistailhigh in a pear tree.*

Take your pick.

* No, really. There's a pear tree out by the lakeshore and he's stretched out on one of the lower limbs.

Comments

[boston_bruiser]

Ambush patrols are tiring. All-night ones are exhausting. But week-long ones are just plain miserable.

And, in Voodoo's case, end with him lying near-comatose on the floor near the fireplace. His helmet's unfastened, revealing a red watchcap underneath, and his machine gun's laid across his stomach.

It might almost be cute, if he weren't snoring like a gutshot bear.

[a_mere_child]

Alyx has always been a pretty light sleeper--she wouldn't have lived past age eight, if she wasn't. So once Voodoo starts getting some sleep, Alyx... isn't, anymore.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo's a light sleeper, too!

Kind of. Sometimes. Not really.

Oh, who're we kidding, if the day ends in "y" he can sleep through a train wreck.

Sorry, Alyx. From the looks of it, he's not waking up anytime soon. On his own, anyway.

[a_mere_child]

"Mnrgh..." Alyx grunts and flails around for something within arm's reach that she can chuck in Voodoo's direction. The first thing she grabs is a throw pillow, and off it goes.

[boston_bruiser]

What is the sound of one throw pillow crumpling uselessly against the floor?

If Milliways is to be believed, it's something like paff.

We don't know what was in it, either - but it sure didn't bother Voodoo.

[a_mere_child]

Alyx grunts even louder--this time it's closer to a growl--and flings the other throw pillow.

Don't make her get up, Voodoo. Things will get Very Ugly Indeed if your snoring forces the pregnant lady to get up from the couch.

[boston_bruiser]

Good news: this one hits home, knocking the helmet from his head. Bad news: Voodoo shrugs it off like it's a ball of papier-mâché.

...yeah, this is not going to end well.

[a_mere_child]

For a moment, she contemplates flagging down a waitrat and ordering something large and scalding hot to be thrown at the sleeping SEAL. But she thinks better of it.

Instead, she hefts herself off of the couch and waddles over to nudge him in the ribs with her booted foot. It might be less of a nudge and more of a kick if this keeps up.

[boston_bruiser]

That seems to produce results, if a momentary lapse in the snoring and the fluttering of his eyelids is anything to go by. After a few more seconds of prodding, he opens his eyes -

goddamn that's bright thought we were under tree cover

- rubs the sand out of them -

doesn't smell right we're in a drainage ditch where's Rabbit

- and blinks.

"Wha...whaz goin' on?"

[a_mere_child]

"You're snoring like a fucking chainsaw and it's keeping me awake, that's what's going on."

[boston_bruiser]

Blink. Blink.

Oh, it's here.

...and it's her.

"I don't fucking snore."

For the sake of this thread, he does.

[a_mere_child]

"Then you've got a breeder hog stuck in your flak jacket," Alyx growls.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo pats down his flak jacket - alas, there's no hog.

"So I was snoring. Big fucking deal."

[a_mere_child]

"You were snoring loud enough I could hear it from over there," she says, pointing back to the couch.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo eyes Alyx, then rolls over on his side to go back to sleep.

[a_mere_child]

For a long moment, Alyx just stares at the unconscious SEAL.

Then she waddles over to the back door.

A minute or so later, there's a rhythmic KATHUNK KATHUNK KATHUNK noise approaching from Voodoo's rear.